Future Imperfect
by Neptune47
Summary: He’s learned the hard way that not all stories have happy endings. All he can do now is fight to save the worlds they protected so long ago. Set 10 years in the future. Hints of UlrichYumi, JeremyAelita and strong friendship between all of them[AU].
1. Rain

Future Imperfect

By Neptune

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Code: Lyoko. In fact, I've barely seen 4 episodes of the show (and apparently it isn't available on DVD or download anywhere…If I owned the show, it would soooo be available for purchase). So don't sue me!

**Summary: **He's learned the hard way that not all stories have happy endings. All he can do now is fight to save the worlds they protected so long ago. Set 10 years in the future. Hints of UlrichYumi, JeremyAelita and strong friendship between all of themAU.

**Rating: **R—mature themes and situations.

**AN: **I know, it seems really contrary to write a CL fic with such a strong rating, but I can't help it. I'm something of an angst fiend. And I just couldn't get the picture of Ulrich wearing a black trench and smoking a cigarette in an alley out of my head. I'm a little bonkers.

I know, I've got other fics to be finishing up, but shoot, I've had a tough week, and I needed to get something new out of my system. I hope you enjoy. Be sure to let me know how I'm doing by hitting that little review button at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Chapter 1: Rain

It had stopped raining, but the smell of precipitation still clung to the air. He inhaled deeply from his position against the wall, filling his lungs with a mixture of the crisp scent and the wisps of tobacco that trailed up from the cigarette dangling loosely in his right hand. It was a comforting smell, as comforting as he allowed things to be these days. In a world gone rotten, the rain sometimes seemed his only ally, putting out the fires that sprung up around his city, and others, before more destruction could be wrought.

And it was in the rain that he always remembered the sound of her laughter. Her whispers of comfort and affection tickling his ear. The feel of her skin, slick against his own, on nights much like this one…

He brought his palm up to his mouth, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. Maybe the rain was his comfort and curse rolled into one. He formed a small 'o' with his lips and exhaled, expelling a stream of smoke and _those_ memories from his body. He'd learned not to dwell on the past long ago.

There was movement on the street just beyond the alley he was positioned in. With the subsided rain, some of the citizenship—he couldn't decided if those who hadn't fled the country were brave or depraved—had no doubt chosen to venture outside. _Fools_, he called them all. S_tay out of sight where you're safe and sheltered_. But they never heard his metal reprimand, and he never bothered to verbalize it. He served them enough by doing what he did now.

Taking one last puff, he dropped the cigarette to the ground. It sizzled against the moisture before he brought his black boot down on it, snuffing it out. His break was over. Pushing off of the brick wall, he adjusted the strap that diagonaled across the front of his dark trench coat. The holster of his katana pressed itself more securely to his back. The blade was forged of simple steel, unlike the energy sword he'd possessed in Lyoko, but it served his purposes well.

His boots were muted against the wet concrete as he pushed forward into the street. He had been right, there were a few people wandering the road now that the weather permitted it. He recognized the junkies, looking at him pleadingly with sallow eyes and trembling hands, waiting for their next score. And there were the girls, standing bared on the street corners, looking for scores of their own. They smiled as he walked by, posing to entice him.

"Baby, you look so lonely tonight."

His feet stopped of their own accord and he turned to the familiar girl who spoke those words. She looked older, he noted, thought he knew her to be his age, and if he hadn't had somewhere else to be, he would have probably taken her companionship for the night. After all, a lot had changed these past years, himself included.

She stared him down, when he hadn't spoken for a few minutes. "Look, you in or not?"

He slowly shook his head at her brown hair and thin lips. "I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Yeah, you're gonna be later."

His hand reached up and gently touched her white cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't protect this place better. For you, and for everyone."

Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, then irritation. Roughly, she grabbed the palm that touched her face and pulled it away. "I'm not giving away any freebees, pal. No touching." She turned away from him and stalked off, muttering "freak job" as she left.

He watched her go, honestly feeling sympathy for her for the first time. He appreciated that irony as he turned and continued on his way as well. There was an old friend he had to catch up with.

* * *

His fist pounded on the wooden door. The frame creaked with each impact—if he'd used a little more force, he could have probably just knocked the door in. But despite their years of separation, he respected his friend too much to do so.

He raised his fist to announce his presence again, when he heard the soft squeaking of wheels. On queue, the door opened, and his spectacled friend greeted him formally. "Ulrich."

Ulrich stared down at Jeremy and frowned. "You need to be more careful. You've got no security on this door. I could have broken in easily."

"Why, were you planning on robbing me?" Jeremy said, nonplussed by the reproof.

"You know that's not my point."

The younger man said nothing, placing his hands on the tires of his wheelchair, and pushing himself back into the small apartment. Ulrich entered on his tail, shutting the door behind them. He looked around the small room, filled mostly with dated computers, chords and papers. It looked just the way it had the last time he'd seen it fourteen months ago. Which meant Jeremy hadn't given up on reconnecting yet. Ulrich's frown deepened.

"It's been six years."

"Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?"

"No. I came hoping you'd have realized that by yourself." He got no response, except for the clicking of keys. Jeremy had returned to coding. "You could be so much more useful to us out there." He gestured to the small dirty window, but the other boy didn't notice. "We need you out there. In the real world."

"Who's to say what's real and what's not?" Jeremy didn't break from his fast typing.

"I can't keep having the same argument with you." Ulrich idly wondered how his friendship with Jeremy had become one big argument. During their days at Kadic, they'd always been on the same page. But, then again, during their days at Kadic, Jeremy had still had a firm grip on reality. Since the link to Lyoko had been severed, though, he'd become single-mindedly obsessed with restoring the connection. Initially, they'd all been supportive of the effort. X.A.N.A. was insinuating himself more prominently in their world, but they still divided their attention equally between fighting him on their home turf, and looking for the missing realm. More importantly, looking for Aelita, who had disappeared with Lyoko. Ulrich had wanted to believe she was still alive in the virtual universe, for Jeremy's sake, but the years had stripped him of his hope. There was little chance that she'd survived against X.A.N.A.'s attacks without their help. "You should let her go," he said quietly, knowing it was a surefire way of getting Jeremy's attention.

And it worked, for the keyboard stopped clicking, and the blonde head that was hunched over it sat up straighter. "I can't," he said just as quietly, but then added with disapproval, "I'm not you."

Ulrich started at Jeremy's reflection in the active computer monitor, hardening his eyes. Seemed like his old friend was trying to drag dirty laundry into this. So be it. He could fight fire with fire. "You can't keep chasing after a pipe dream. He's probably encrypted the entrance, so even if you did find it again, you wouldn't be able to get in. You may be a genius, Jeremy, but even you wouldn't be able to crack a code that complex."

Jeremy continued to stare at his reflection on the screen as zeros and ones trailed passed their faces. "You never used to be so faithless. You've changed."

Ulrich raked his fingers through his coarse brown hair, not needing a sermon about his personality flaws. "I've had to change. It's what you do to survive." His hand reached into his pocket, itching to extract his Marlboroughs. But he didn't—Jeremy had problems with second hand smoke. "It's what you do to stay alive, battle after battle."

"You fight your way, and I'll fight mine."

Ulrich's fist crushed the pack in his pocket as he tried to maintain his composure. "Look, X.A.N.A's not going to leave you alone for much longer. And when he comes after you this time, you'll loose more than just your legs."

The typing started again. "I've already lost more than that, Ulrich. We all have."

That was enough. "Fine. Do what you want. There's not much I can do if you've got a death wish." He turned quickly, his coat flapping around him as he did. He reached for the door, wanting nothing more than to get out of this apartment that reminded him of the past, and light up a cigarette. Before he could turn the handle though, Jeremy's steady voice stopped him. "If it had been _her_ instead, trapped somewhere, hurt somewhere, would you have given up before finding the truth?"

Ulrich paused, unsure of what he should say. _She was, Jeremy, she was, and I couldn't do a goddamn thing to help her. So I let her go. _He tightened his grip on the doorknob, bowing his head before answering with "No. No, I wouldn't," instead. Both were the truth, for him at least.

"Maybe you haven't changed that much after all," the blond said, turning his head slightly.

"Maybe." Ulrich stayed silent for a few moments. He hadn't come here to leave angry. He'd come here to try and keep his last remaining friend safe, since he'd failed on so many other occasions. "Do you have a gun, or anything you could use to defend yourself?"

"I never liked guns, and I wasn't very good with other weapons either," Jeremy admitted.

Ulrich sighed, not surprised by the answer. "It really isn't a good idea for you to work here without some kind of security." He mentally went through his list of contacts. He'd be able to find something easy for Jeremy to use. "I'll find something and come by tomorrow. In the mean time, if you need anything…I…I still have my cell phone."

"Me too."

Ulrich turned to look at his oldest friend, his expression not so hard anymore. Jeremy's back was turned to him again, reabsorbed in his crusade. Against the side of his computer, partially obstructed by wires and pages of code, Ulrich noticed a small photograph. He guessed it to be at least ten years old—the color had faded and the edges were torn and bent. But the faces remained as crisp as the day it was taken. Jeremy, Odd, Yumi and himself, sitting around a park bench, smiling at a world not yet turned on its ear.

_Is that the reason I'm still fighting?_

He had no answer to give himself.

* * *

To Be Continued…

AN2: Formating on this site is really the biggest nightmare on the planet. Makes me not want to make chapters more than a scene long. Well, hopefully all of the markups came through, and this is easy to read. Let me know what you thought!


	2. History

**Future Imperfect**

By Neptune

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Code: Lyoko. In fact, I've barely seen 4 episodes of the show (and apparently it isn't available on DVD or download anywhere…If I owned the show, it would soooo be available for purchase). So don't sue me!

**Summary: **He's learned the hard way that not all stories have happy endings. All he can do now is fight to save the worlds they protected so long ago. Set 10 years in the future. Hints of UlrichYumi, JeremyAelita and strong friendship between all of themAU.

**Rating: **R—mature themes and situations.

**AN: **Writing has been more of a guilty pleasure I sneak in between working on Psets, going to lab and studying for tests. That's why everything is taking so much longer to write than I would like. But here is the next chapter of my CL fic.

And for those of you wondering about all my DC, X-Men and Naruto fics, I'm working on those right now! I try to post progress reports in my profile, incase people are curious, so that's a good place to see what I'm up to.

In the mean time, I hope you enjoy chapter 2.

* * *

**Chapter 2: History   
**

"Marlboroughs," Ulrich told the small Indian man who stood on the other side of the newsstand. It was one of the few places that had remained open over the years, escaping the destruction of X.A.N.A's attacks. More over, it was one of the only places that would still serve him. Though he tried to keep as low a profile as his "occupation" allowed, one look at him and it wasn't hard to figure out who he was, who his enemy was. And there were few who wanted to risk antagonizing the errant computer program.

The Indian pulled down the appropriate pack from the shelf behind him, extending it to his customer. "Twenty."

Ulrich stopped fishing for currency in his pockets, frowning at the vendor. "It was ten last week."

The man shrugged. "Demand changes."

Shaking his head, Ulrich pulled the appropriate amount of cash from his jacket. "Whatever," he mumbled, exchanging the wadded bills for his cigarettes. "I'll just quit. Then you can talk to me about demand."

The merchant's face remained impassive. "I'll see you next week."

"Hm," he said, undoing the plastic binding, extracting a stick and lighting it. His raw nerves calmed slightly as the nicotine slowly invaded his lungs.

Just hours ago, he'd visited Jeremy's small apartment for the second time in two days. Setting up a primitive security system hadn't been much of a problem. He'd called in some favors, dealers he had lent his assistance to at one time or another, and they'd provided him with an entrance scanner to monitor the doorway. He'd also gotten his hands on some taser guns, adapted from some of X.A.N.A.'s technology. "It's not a gun," he'd told Jeremy when his friend looked at the weapon dubiously, "it's a diversion." One shot could electrocute just about anything, from a human to a bot, stunning them long enough for a get away. If Jeremy wasn't willing to kill, then this was his only other option.

He'd personally installed the final security feature to his friend's door: a deadbolt. It wasn't exactly high-tech, but it would have to do.

Even with his new installments, though, Ulrich still felt uneasy about leaving Jeremy to his own devices. Ideally, he wanted his friend to leave the confines of his apartment-turned-lab to help him fight X.A.N.A. on Earth—attempt to destroy the computer virus from this side. They'd fought from Lyoko for four years, and it hadn't gotten them anywhere. And trying to reestablish the connection with Lyoko hadn't gotten them anywhere either. It had been a good idea six years ago, but that option had now timed out.

He'd explained many times to Jeremy that even though X.A.N.A. had become an active presence in this world, the virus was still weak. Hell, he hadn't even been able to materialize yet. He executed his plans through the stooges and bots he'd allied with in this realm. But the argument had just added more fuel to Jeremy's fire. Lyoko was still out there—and if X.A.N.A. could still find his way into this world, they could find their way back into his.

That had been their stalemate, and it still was, apparently. He should have fought Jeremy harder on the subject back then, but he hadn't thought the genius would hold to his idealism for long. Besides, he had soon found himself distracted with more pressing matters than X.A.N.A.—more personal matters that had shattered her life, and as a consequence, his as well.

Ulrich flicked the butt of his cigarette, allowing the built-up ash to sputter off into the air. This wouldn't do. He was usually good at keeping thoughts of her at bay. Maybe it was seeing Jeremy again, being reminded of their history that had caused this resurfacing. The reason, however, didn't matter much. He needed to refocus himself. Harboring feelings of guilt over his ex wouldn't help him if there were an atta—

A large flare of blue light off in the distance interrupted his introspection. The muted screams confirmed his suspicions. "Someone must be reading my mind," he said as he discarded his half smoked cigarette and sprinted in the appropriate direction.

There were two robots. Two Crabs, to be exact. Looked like this wouldn't be too hard to deal with.

Ulrich couldn't quite guess what reason X.A.N.A. had to attack this relatively abandoned street. Honestly, he didn't quite care. It would be a good way to vent a little frustration, since all he had to deal with were the Earth versions of X.A.N.A.'s crab droids. These machines, and all of his attack robots for that matter, didn't translate as well into the real world as they had into the virtual one. They were slower and less maneuverable, thanks in part to the laws of physics. No, these robots didn't phase him much. It was the human support X.A.N.A. had gained that Ulrich saw as the real threat.

"Alright," he said, pulling the katana from its sheath. Hearing the sharp sliding of metal against metal always made him feel powerful. "Who's first?"

The Crab on the right hobbled towards him on its heavy mechanical legs. As it moved, the ground pocketed with its weight. Ulrich moved back slightly, holding his sword ready in front on him. When the robot was within firing range, he swung forward, cutting at the leg joint. The wires he hit there sparked and sizzled as he withdrew and ducked, avoiding the volley of plasma fire the Crab threw at him. With another hard swing, he severed the forelegs of the robot, and it fell forward onto the ground. While its circuitry sizzled, he plunged his sword through the bare top. One down, one to go.

He yanked his sword out, spinning out from the newly made debris. Plasma shots flared from the cannons of the second enemy as Ulrich pulled back. He dodged, attempting to maneuver his way back around and behind the creature. It cut off his path with a few more blasts. This one was more resilient than the last. But he'd always liked challenges. Planting the blade of his sword into a groove on the cement, he used the handle to vault himself up and over it. The momentum from his previous run carried him over the bot. He landed in a crouch, planting his left palm on the ground for added support. His right hand snaked inside his jacket, finding the holster clipped to his belt. Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he pulled out the small automatic he carried in case of emergencies. Barely taking time to aim, he fired four successive shots. Three of them hit the body of the crab, pushing it backwards with each impact. The last bullet hit the plasma cannon. It sparked and wheezed before the robot began to spasm. Small detonations began from the inside out, and Ulrich shielded his face against the raining pieces of metal and wire.

The crab stopped moving a moment later, ungracefully crashing to the ground. "Junk," Ulrich muttered as he stood and stepped through the piles of metal shrapnel and circuitry. He made his way back to the groove he'd stuck his blade in, and pulled it out. He squinted at the top of the sword, inspecting it for damages. It would need a little polishing, but otherwise, no harm. He smirked slightly at yet another small victory for himself.

"Don't pat yourself on the back just yet, Ulrich Stern. You haven't won the war."

Ulrich's shoulder tensed at the painfully familiar voice that now talked with mechanical coldness. Keeping a firm grip, he turned around to face his new opponent. The other stood in the shadows created by the flickering street lamps and building walls, his features obstructed from sight. Ulrich didn't need to see the face to recognize the person, though. "Odd."

Odd stepped forward with that same dynamic gait he'd had when they were younger. His mouth twitched into a smile that Ulrich had seen countless times over their lunches, their soccer games, their friendship. It would have been hard to realize that Odd was no longer his ally if it hadn't been for the machine-like quality of his voice. Or the circular tattoo now located around his left eye.

"You've lost weight." Odd seemed to have been scrutinizing his appearance, too. It infuriated Ulrich to no end.

"What do you care?"

Odd seemed to mull the statement over for a while before deciding on an answer. "You're right, I don't." He shrugged his shoulders casually, and then snapped his hands up, something black and shiny held between his fingers. Ulrich barely had time to duck before Odd fired his new weapon of choice: the cross bow. An arrow brushed passed the top of Ulrich's head, cutting through a few wayward hairs.

Odd smiled. "Not bad. Your still pretty fast."

Ulrich stood again with his sword drawn between them. "You came all this way to test my reflexes? You lousy son of a—"

"Hey!" Odd clucked in mock indignation, "Is that any way to talk to your best friend?"

"_We_ are not friends." Not anymore. "You may look like Odd, but you're not him."

"I'm not him. I'm better. " He took aim again, this time more slowly than the last. "I'll give you a head start this time. We do have a history, after all."

"I'm not running from you," Ulrich told him, gripping his sword tightly.

Odd kept the crossbow at eye level, but sighed. "You always were too stubborn for your own good."

Ulrich clenched his teeth. "Just shut your mouth. Lets finish this once and for all."

He got no answer, just an arrow flying towards his face. He spun out quickly, avoiding an impact. Almost as soon as he'd evaded, Odd sent another wave of arrows toward him. He ducked and spun again, taking refuge behind an overturned garbage can. The metal of the barrel puckered as arrows pierced it.

Ulrich sheathed his sword quickly. It wouldn't be able to help him too much in a fight like this. Instead he grabbed the gun from his holster again, shoving a clip of ammunition into the bottom. As soon as it clicked into place, he dove outward, firing. It was Odd's turn to run for cover now. He found shelter against a building wall, just outside Ulrich's firing range. "I've got to hand it to you, Ulrich," he taunted from his now concealed location, "I didn't think you'd actually be able to pull a gun on me."

Ulrich pulled himself into a crouch, still using the garbage can for cover. His breath felt heavy, and there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Do you really mean to kill me?"

Ulrich straightened his back, but didn't answer the question. He focused on the task at hand: getting that bow out of Odd's hands. He didn't have a detailed plan in mind, but there was no time to just hide here and think of one. Pushing up and over his makeshift shield, he charged forward, firing at the corner of the brick wall that he'd identified as the source of Odd's voice. The red mortar chipped against the impacts as he drew closer, until he reached the perpendicular wall. He pressed his back against it and stopped his firing. The empty clip fell from his gun, and he reloaded with his last round. "It's over, Odd." He swung around the corner, gun pointed forward, index finger on the trigger.

Over the tip of the barrel, he saw Odd in a similar stance, with his crossbow. Neither moved, neither breathed, and the seconds suddenly seemed like days. Slowly, though, Odd broke their trance, pulling a corner of his mouth up. "I knew you wouldn't be able to." There was a sharp click.

Ulrich staggered back a few feet before he felt the searing pain in his left shoulder. Looking down, he saw a black metal stick protruding from the joint, red starting to drip down the puncture in his coat. His right hand instinctively grabbed the injured arm. Hus gun clattered to the cement.

Odd moved closer to him, weapon lowered. He was shaking his head. "I don't blame you, you know. Not pulling that trigger." He grabbed the lapels of Ulrich's trench coat with one hand, and the arrow with the other. "Can't be easy, trying to kill a friend."

"Go to hell."

"Temper, temper, Ulrich." Odd twisted the arrow, and Ulrich grunted in pain. He soon found himself on the ground with Odd standing above him. "I know you might find this hard to believe, but I don't want to fight you. You've been a thorn in my side for the past few years, but I'm willing to put all that behind us. X.A.N.A.'s going to change this world for the better. I can see that so clearly now. We're allied with most of the world governments. And we've got non-aggression pacts with others. We'll perfect this pathetic planet. There's no need to fight it anymore." Odd stretched his hand, palm up, towards Ulrich. "Join us."

Ulrich reached up towards the offered hand. Instead of grasping it though, he swatted it away with the back of his own. "No thanks," he spat, "I don't particularly like your way of helping the world."

Odd smirked down at him before raising his crossbow and pointing it at Ulrich's chest. "Funny. That's practically the same thing she said."

Ulrich didn't respond to the statement, and this seemed to displease his attacker. Odd elaborated for him. "All these years, I though she was dead. And then one day, bam, there she is, standing before me, feisty as the day I first met her." Ulrich's eyes widened, and Odd smiled. "I see you're just as shocked as I was that she's alive."

Oh, he was shocked all right, but not for the reason Odd thought.

"It's too bad you won't have a chance to see her again. She looked almost good enough to ea—oof!" Odd's sentence was interrupted when his legs were kicked out from under him by Ulrich's swinging feet. He fell hard onto the ground.

Ulrich was up in a flash, pulling his katana out with his good hand. Placing a boot on his enemy's chest, he held the tip of the blade to Odd's neck. "Where?"

"Where what?" Odd asked, voice straining.

Ulrich pushed against the sword. It drew blood. "Don't screw around with me. Where did you find her?"

Odd arched an eyebrow, but gave no indication that he was in pain. "Well, this certainly is surprising." He studied Ulrich's face intently before his eyes widened with pleasure. "You knew she was alive, didn't you?" The smile on his face grew, and he began to laugh. "You knew." His laughter grew louder. "Here I though that I could be the bearer of some good news," he chocked a little on his heaved breaths, "But this isn't news to you at all."

Ulrich dropped to his knees, letting the sword fall to the ground. With his now free hand, he grasped Odd's neck and began squeezing. "I said tell me where she is," he whispered dangerously.

The laughs became less pronounced, but the smile remained on Odd's face. "Yo..you..ll ha..vta

Kil..ll..me..firs.."

Ulrich set his jaw and clamped his hand down harder on Odd's neck. "That can be arranged." His fingers were turning white with the pressure he was using. Just a few more minutes and…

There was a clinkering behind him that he recognized immediately. Metal feet against cement. There were robots coming his way. "Shit," he swore softly. With only one good arm, there was no way he could take them. His only option was to run.

Leaning down close to Odd, he hissed, "This isn't over, not by a long shot," before releasing the neck from his death grip. Grabbing his sword and gun, he pushed off the ground into a fast sprint.

As the sweat streaked down his face and the throbbing in his should grew worse, he found his mind occupied with only one thought. _Yumi…they've found Yumi._

All those years of work began crumbling around him.

* * *

**To be continued…**

**Reviews:**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

** Flying Star-** Well, I know not all your questions about Odd have been answered, but now you know where he fits into my crazy story. I hope this keeps you interested!

**Artemis of the Ice- **Thank you very much for the kind words. It means a lot to me since I'm a fan of your story. And if you're thinking the prostitute was our favorite drama queen, I think you're right :o)

**Cybra- **I'm glad you liked the tension between Ulrich and Jeremy. That was an interesting challenge for me, because I haven't really seen a lot go on between Ulrich and Jeremy on the show (I've been able to catch about 8 episodes now, yay!). But really, you put those two boys in a room together, and the scene practically writes itself. There's a scene in the next chapter that I'm working on right now that I've been having a lot of fun with.

**UlrictheBoyWonder-** Well, I know that I sometimes kill characters because I'm an angst fiend...ummm, but that my not be the answer you were looking for, haha. But I think you'll be happy with the ending of this chapter, as far as wanting Yumi alive goes. Thanks for the review!

**Mega-Punk666-** Thanks! I was kinda worried about the mood of this story...it's very anti-CL happiness, and I've only read a handful of CL fics that are on the darker side. This is a fandom that definitely likes to stay on the lighter side of things, I think. But I'm happy to hear that it drew you in. Hope the second chapter does too.

**Just Rite- **Thanks, and sorry it took me so long to continue it.

**connie**- Yeah, I'm a sucker for seeing young characters grow up. An even bigger sucker for writing about it :o) Glad you liked my story so far.

**LilEvil**- Fandom jumper! Yay, I have company. As always, thanks for your kind reviews. It's nice to know that I can write for stuff outside of DC and Marvel ;o)


	3. Memory Lane

**Rating: PG-13 (For Lanuage)**

**Chapter 3: ****Memory Lane**

**

* * *

**

"Ouch, goddammit," Ulrich cursed at Jeremy, jerking his shoulder away from the spirit soaked cloth. "Be careful."

Jeremy didn't flinch, but grabbed Ulrich's arm more forcefully, pressing the cleaning rag firmly into the wound. Ulrich hissed against the sting.

He'd stumbled into Jeremy's home shortly after his run in with Odd, bleeding, and sweating, and firing out disjointed explanations. Jeremy had forced him to lie down on his sofa as he gathered up medical supplies he'd gotten from god knows where. He'd managed to pull the arrow out and stop the bleeding, ignoring Ulrich's swears of protest as he treated the injured shoulder. He hadn't commented on what Ulrich had told him, though. And Ulrich wanted, _needed_ him to say something about it.

"We're almost done. Just bear it for a little longer," Jeremy instructed as he began to wrap gauze around the swelling puncture mark.

"Easy for you to say," Ulrich winced against the pressure.

"I wouldn't complain if I were you. Your wound's not that bad."

Ulrich opened his mouth, startled and seething. "Not that…you've got to be kidding." He clamped his mouth shut again, more than a little bit angry. Jeremy obviously had no idea how much an arrow to the shoulder fucking _hurt._

"Quite frankly, I'm surprised that you're still alive," Jeremy said as he tied off the end of the gauze, "considering that it was Odd you were fighting."

Ulrich sat up sharply as Jeremy started packing away his first aid kit. "Now wait a minute, what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should probably be dead right now. But you're not."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. It's not laser swords and virtual battles anymore, you know. I think I deserve more credit than you're giving me."

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Jeremy said as he wheeled himself to a nearby shelf and deposited the first aid kit onto the bottom-most cubby. "It's just that Odd's not like a normal human anymore. He's faster, and probably even smarter than you are. You're basically fighting a human computer. And as good as you are, even you aren't a match for that."

"Fine," Ulrich frowned, "so you think I just got lucky this time, is that it?"

"Luck, huh?" Jeremy laughed mirthlessly. "No, no, I don't think it was luck."

Ulrich paused, easily following where Jeremy's train of thought was headed. "That's not it," he informed Jeremy through clenched teeth.

"You can be so sure?"

"Yes, I can. That's not Odd. It might look like him, it might even talk like him, but it's not."

"You of all people should know that things aren't that black and white. Is it so hard for you to believe that there's still a part of him that's fighting? The same part of him that spared your life tonight."

Ulrich shook his head fiercely. He didn't want to get into this. He hated getting into this. "He didn't spare my life. He tried to kill me. He's been trying to kill me, and you too, by the way, for almost five years now."

"Ulrich, listen to m—"

"No, you listen to me. I know what it's like to have nanites running through your brain. And those were just prototypes. The ones that X.A.N.A infected Odd with are ten times more powerful. We all saw the scans. They're embedded. Removing them would be killing him. And there's not going to be a time reset. So be optimistic if you want, but Odd's gone." He hadn't realized how worked up he'd gotten until there was a pain in his chest from his heavy breathing. "He's just gone."

Jeremy pushed at his glasses, forcing them up the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to convince me of that, or yourself?"

Ulrich rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, grunting in frustration. "Stop trying to be so profound!" He stood abruptly, as if to emphasize his point, and immediately felt a lightness in his head. He shut his eyes to keep the room from swaying.

"Sit down, Ulrich."

He ignored the advice. "He's a threat Jeremy. If you'd only seen some of his handy work, you wouldn't be so quick to defend him. People have been hurt because of the things he's done. People have _died_ because of him. And he doesn't have one--"

"You're going to make your injury worse--

"—goddamn bit of remorse over any of it. He thinks he's making a better world. Can you believe that? And—"

"—and there's only so much I can treat in an apartment."

"—he wants me to help him! _Help him,_ that bastard. Like it's the most logical thing in the world to help a monster as he tries to destroy the world. It may have Odd's face, but that's not Odd. It's a mindless automaton that's no better than those damn robots that I have to destroy every single day."

"Then will you be able to kill him like he's just one of those robots."

Ulrich opened him mouth, then closed it. He'd meant to say yes. His mind hand conjured the word, ready to send it into the room. But then…

_"Did you just—?"_

_"What?"_

_"I can't believe you just…Dude!"_

_"Dude, what?" Odd stood scratching his head with one hand, holding a towel around his waist with the other._

_"You just…was that…" Ulrich frowned, finding it hard to phrase his question in a way that made it sound normal. "Did you just…spank me?" He finally asked._

_Odd stared at him, slightly perplexed for about a minute before he figured it out. And hunched over laughing._

_Ulrich frowned some more, throwing the towel in his hand around his neck as he waited expectantly for Odd to finish. _

_When he'd stopped convulsing enough to stand, or rather, to lean against the locker room wall, he did explain. Sort of. "Come on, Ulrich, you know, it's like saying 'good game.'"_

_"Then why don't you just _say_ good game?"_

_"I dunno, 'cause it's tradition to do it this way instead."_

_"Spanking is tradition." Ulrich raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Seriously, did your parents beat you when you were little?" _

_"Ha. Ha. Funny. But you can't tell me you didn't know about it? It's…a locker room must after you win the game."_

_"Not in France, man."_

_"You are so wrong. I'll prove it to you. Hey, Dan," he yelled out to one of their teammates who'd claimed the end of an adjacent bench. "I bet you've slapped loads of guys' butts after games right?"_

_Dan screwed up his face. "How 'bout I fuck you up, Della Robbia."_

_"O…kay, bad example." He said as he quickly broke off eye contact with Dan. "Geez, what's the big deal. It's just a…a love tap. No, nevermind, wrong phrase," he correct at Ulrich's unamused look. "It's more like…forging a bond. Yeah, that's it. A bond between brothers, securing our steadfast loyalty to each other."_

_"A bond," Ulrich repeated dubiously. _

_"Yes!" Odd emphasized, throwing his arm into the air. "A bond of brotherly love."_

_The brown haired boy eyed him wearily before giving in. "Whatever you say, Odd."_

_Odd nodded in triumph, tying his falling towel around his waist, freeing his hand to rummage through his locker. As an afterthought, he added, "Man, you shoulda seen your face, you were, like, freaking out for a bit, weren't you?"_

_"Yeah, imagine that," Ulrich deadpanned as he threw his towel on the bench and began fishing around in his duffel bag for a comb. "Oh, Odd," he said, still immersed in his task._

_"Yeah," his friend asked, finding his own shirt and pulling it over his head._

_"Do it again, and I'll kill you."_

_"Sure, sure," Odd said waving his hand lightly at Ulrich. "Like you'll ever be able to do that." _

_Finishing with his hair (brushed forward, the way Yumi said she liked it), he zipped up the duffel and hefted it onto his shoulder. "You don't think I could take you?" He asked in mock incredulity as he walked towards the locker room exit. "I could take you. And beat you soundly."_

_Odd followed him out, bouncing easily into step beside him. "Yeah, maybe, but you could never kill me," he informed Ulrich, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm too lovable." He winked, grinning from ear to ear, the way he always did._

_Ulrich shook his head, but laughed in spite of himself. "Hey, Lovable."_

_"Yeah?"__ Odd asked, smile still stretched across his face._

_"You forgot to put your pants on."_

_Odd looked down, confirming that he was, indeed, wearing only a badly wrapped towel, and scratched the back of his head sheepishly at a couple of underclassmen who passed by. "Yeah…I'm gonna go finish…"_

_"Later Odd."__ Ulrich said, smirking good-naturedly at his absentminded friend. _

It was a memory he was sure he should have forgotten by now, filed away with many of the other inconsequential things that the brain didn't always remember. And he had forgotten it for the six years since that conversation had taken place, until now. "Maybe I'm just a masochist…" he whispered, forgetting the 'yes' he'd been ready to answer just moments ago.

"Ulrich?" Jeremy had wheeled himself in front of him now, looking up at him in concern as he'd wandered down memory lane.

"I'll…I'll do what I need to do, okay?" He finally answered his friend's question.

"I know you will," Jeremy nodded, wheeling himself backwards and to his computer. "Now sit down before you hurt yourself." He waited until his injured friend had repositioned himself on the couch before continuing. "I know you probably don't want to talk about this either, but there's something else we need to discuss."

Jeremy was wrong. This is what he wanted to talk about more than anything else. "Yumi."

"She's alive. You knew."

He didn't have an excuse to give. "I did."

"You didn't tell me…no, you told me she was dead." There wasn't any anger in Jeremy's voice, but Ulrich found himself feeling rather guilty for the first time. After all, Jeremy had been through a lot, too, and he'd just put another burden on him with these lies.

"It's not like I wanted to lie to you. But, I didn't have another choice. It was for her protection. After what happened, she wanted an out. And I couldn't blame her. So I figured something out."

"I would have helped you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," he said staring at his scuffed boot. "But for Yumi's sake, I had to…"

"In case I turned out like Odd."

Ulrich looked up at Jeremy's spectacled face, remembering just how astute the genius boy was. "Yeah."

"And what about you?"

"Your right, there was a risk that I'd be infected too. So I managed to get her out of the country. A ticket to England…before they entered into the Treaty. I arranged for her to meet with a contact there. New ID, new documents, new life. One I wouldn't know about. After that she was supposed to get out of there, to some place I wouldn't know about either. And that's where the trail from me would end."

"Smart," Jeremy said, adjusting his glasses, "But that's not what I meant. Why didn't you go, too?"

Ulrich let out a long breath. "I'm not sure there's an easy answer to that."

"I didn't think there would be."

He tried to find the right words, but decided that there weren't any. Not now, at least. "The long and short of it was that there was too much history. And the rest…is personal."

Jeremy studied him a moment before acquiescing. "I understand. If you want to talk about it some other time…"

"Yeah…thanks."

"Don't mention it. But now that she's resurfaced, what should we do?"

"If Odd knows where she is, I don't think we have another choice."

"I agree. So now there's still the matter of how to find her again. Do you have any idea? The contact you had her meet, maybe?"

Ulrich shook his head. "I broke communication, for obvious reasons."

"Good idea then, bad for us now."

"Yeah tell me about it." He ran his hand through his hair. "If I just knew where it was that Odd saw her…"

"Hmm…That may not be a bad idea." Jeremy told him as he began typing furiously.

"Jeremy?" Ulrich asked as he approached the computer. He caught fast lines of code scrolling down the screen, but couldn't make heads or tails of it. "Talk to me, what are you thinking."

"What if I told you that there's an archive of all the data X.A.N.A.s agents collect, from battles to recon, sitting on a server in Afganastan?"

"I'd ask you how the hell you know that."

Jeremy smirked. "I guess seeing you again kinda inspired me to be more creative in my attempts to reach Lyoko. I'd been too centralized, too direct all these years. So I tried it your way, I snuck around. And I found a few rather unprotected areas in his network. Routine stuff, like maintenance logs, and memory dumps. X.A.N.A. may be powerful, but he's still a computer. He's got to log everything." Jeremy furrowed his brow. "It's disappointingly predictable, actually. I should have thought of it sooner."

"Jeremy, are you telling me you hacked X.A.N.A.'s records?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Nothing he would consider important, but something we might be able to use to reconstruct Odd's travel itinerary for the last year or so. Assuming that they dump his info into this server too. Which I'm thinking is very likely, since—"

"—since he's basically a computer himself."

"Right."

For the first time in a long time, Ulrich felt a smile forming on his mouth. "Jeremy I could kiss you."

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"How long do you think this will take?"

"Well, considering how many files we'll have to sift through, it'll be a while. But don't worry, you've got time. You're not going anywhere until that wound on your shoulder heals. To my satisfaction."

Ulrich clapped him on the back. "For once, I'm not going to argue."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

**AN: **Yeah, yeah, this was a long time coming, but here's the next chapter. I'd like to thank all the reviewers who've read this crazy story of mine and left comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. The next chapter begins the search for Yumi.

PS- Updates on the status of my other stories are in my profile. If you're here wondering when in the hell I'm gonna finish those, I apologize for the delay.


End file.
